


Spilled Milk

by NikaylaSarae



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Blood, Hitting, Hurt/Comfort, Yelling, rude customers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:08:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24947398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikaylaSarae/pseuds/NikaylaSarae
Summary: Logan never expected to get in the middle of a fight while at the self-checkout of a grocery store.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 75





	Spilled Milk

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted with minor edits from my Tumblr account @stillebesat.

With how far technology had advanced in the last decade, Logan would have thought that upgrading the way machines read dollar bills would have been on someone’s list of ‘things that needs to happen ASAP.’

_ Beep Beep Whirr _

Apparently not.

Logan barely kept a scowl off of his face as the machine at the self-check out spit out the five  _ again.  _ For the  _ fourth  _ freaking time. 

“Could you hurry it up at all?” A whiny voice demanded right behind him. “Just pay already!” 

Logan hunched his shoulders, doing his best to keep his distance from the lady who’d been breathing down his neck practically the entire time he’d been standing in line for the self-checkout. 

He hated when people had no concept of personal space.

“I’m trying.” He said, his voice barely above a whisper as he grabbed the bill back out of the machine, doing his best to smooth it out by running it over the edge of counter before trying again. 

“Try. Faster.” She hissed, edging her cart full of groceries ever closer to him to the point where the wheels threatened to run over his foot. “Some of us are in a  _ hurry  _ here.” 

_ Beep Beep Whirr _

Abraham Lincoln’s face again confronted him as the machine spat it back out. 

Logan briefly closed his eyes. “ _ Come on. _ ” He didn’t have the energy for this.

“JUST Pay with a CARD already! I don’t have all day!” The woman bumped his thigh with her cart. 

He took a breath, fighting to keep his ragged emotions in check as he shakily grabbed the five back with trembling hands, smoothing it once more. If only more than one self-checkout lane had been open. Then he wouldn’t be dealing with this--this  _ dragon witch  _ along with the finicky check-out machine. __

“I only have cash.” He said, barely keeping his voice civil. Specifically this five dollar bill. He had nothing else. His bank account was empty. His credit card maxed out.

All because the gaming company he worked at, MantiCore, had folded. The Ceos vanishing with all the funds, having claiming bankruptcy, their stocks plummeting within seconds as word spread. And Logan...had been left without his job of nine years and the paycheck he’d been counting on having for the past two weeks. For the last ninety-eight and a half hours he’d sacrificed to work nonstop on his passion project. 

He’d barely gotten more than a handful of hours of sleep frantically working to get his newest multiplayer verse ready for its release tonight at midnight...only to handed a pink slip two hours ago and unceremoniously tossed out on his ear, the game officially axed.

Logan exhaled, again sliding the bill into the slot, absently pressing his hand against the faint bulge in his pocket. 

Until he found a job that would actually  _ pay  _ him like MantiCore had promised him, that five was the last of his funds. Enough cash to buy a quart of milk and the smallest jar of Crofters he could find.

All for nothing. 

_ Beep Beep Ding.  _

Logan looked up, shoulders relaxing as the stupid device finally took his money.  _ Finally. _ Two pennies and a nickel clanging into the change dish as the receipt printed out. 

“Don’t just stand there like a stick in the mud!” The blonde-haired demon lady shrilled, rushing forward to take his spot. “MOVE.” 

Logan flinched, hurriedly reaching out to grab his groceries to avoid getting elbowed in the gut.

Only his hand miscalculated the distance, knocking into the milk carton instead of grabbing it, sending it into the Crofters right as the woman pushed her way in front of the machine.

He yelped, barely managing to stay on his feet as the pungent floral perfume overwhelmed his senses like a sneak attack, his reflexes sluggish as he reached out to save the milk and his precious Crofters before they tipped over the edg--

_ Thud. _

_ Crash. _

_ Sploosh. _

A shriek.

Logan dropped to his knees. “Sorry, I’m sorry!” He said, heart sinking at the red and white mess now covering the floor. He grabbed at the shards of glass and shattered carton of milk in a pointless attempt to keep the mess from spreading.

_ WHAM. _

Stars danced in Logan’s eyes as the sharp edge of the woman’s fake leather purse caught him on the side of the face, knocking him straight into the liquid disaster.

“MY. SHOES!” The woman screeched, her purse again coming down on his head. “MY DRESS! YOU RUINED THEM YOU HORRID LAYABOUT!!” 

Logan cried out, unable to find the words to tell the lady to stop hitting him. He curled up in a ball covering his head with his arms in a futile attempt to ward off her attacks.  _ Why? Just...why? _

“YOU. DID. THAT. ON. PURPOS---HEY!” 

“I believe.” A cool voice said in the sudden silence as Logan cautiously looked up to see a man around his own age, wearing a red and white jacket, easily holding the woman’s raised arm in place. “That that is quite enough, miss. This guy isn’t at fault--”

She gaped at him, before tugging fitfully at her arm. “NOT AT FAULT?! HE--LET GO OF ME YOU--!” 

The stranger let go, stepping to the side as the store’s security guard reached them. 

“ _ You  _ ruined your own clothes.” He interrupted at the same time the guard said, “Ma’am I need you to come with me.” 

She gaped at them both, strap of her purse held loosely in her hand. “What? WHY! HE’S--!” 

“Because you assaulted another customer, ma’am.” The guard jerked a thumb over his shoulder to the wall. “The cameras caught it all on tape--”

The rest of the conversation faded from Logan’s ears as his rescuer crouched in front of him, his warm brown eyes searching his face. “You okay?” 

It took Logan a moment to remember he should be answering the question. “F-fine.” He winced at the tremor in his voice and looked away. “Just...fine.” What was one more thing going wrong compared to his entire nightmare filled week? 

The man snorted. “Doubtful, you’re covered in jelly.” 

“Jam.”

“Same thing.”

Logan scoffed. “They’re completely different!”

His rescuer picked up a shard of glass that had the Crofters label on it and smirked. “Alright. I’ll give you that. Crofters is on a whole different tier really-” He abruptly shook his head, holding out his other hand. “Geez man, don’t get me on a Crofters kick! You’re wet, injured, and look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

“Four days.” The correction slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it as Logan allowed his rescuer to pull him to his feet. 

He gritted his teeth, his right leg protesting the movement as crackling zings of agony made themselves known and glanced down, shuddering as he noted the shards of glass sticking through the fabric. It was obvious that not all those dark stains on his pants were from the Crofters. 

The man clicked his tongue. “Well, no wonder you look like death, Specs! Come on.” He scooped Logan up into his arms like he weighed nothing. “I don’t even know how you’re holding a conversation with me.” He said, ignoring Logan’s undignified yelp as he threw his arms around his rescuer’s neck. “I mean, I’ve done forty-eight hours before and I was positively loopy by the time I finally crashed.” He said, carefully moving them out of the liquid puddle while a couple of workers from the store descended on the spill with brooms and mops, heading for a bench nearby. “Unfortunately for me, my roomie at the time got video of it so I can’t just pretend it never happened and I haven’t yet found a way to get my own blackmail against the guy--” He sat Logan gently down, kneeling in front of him. “Mind if I look at that leg?” He asked, hand hovering over his knee. 

Was this guy for real? “Are you a Doctor?” He asked, wincing as he pulled up his stained pant leg for the man to see. 

His rescuer ruefully shook his head. “Hardly, that’s my Ma actually.” He grinned sheepishly, pulling out a pack of bandages and neosporin with a wadded up receipt from his jacket. “When I was nine she told me. ‘ _Ro, if ya gonna keepa getten in dese imeeginery fights I will needa teacha how ta fix yaself up.’_ ” He shrugged, frowning at the glass embedded in Logan’s skin. “Not my fault I had to battle so many Dragon Witches as a ki--

Wait. Dragon Witches? But he’d...Logan snorted, raising a hand to his mouth trying to turn his laugh into a cough. 

The man--Ro raised an eyebrow, shoulders hunching slightly. “What’s so funny?” 

Logan shook his head, glancing to the woman still shouting at the self-checkout. “That’s...that’s what I mentally called her, before…” He gestured to his soaking clothes. “A Dragon Witch.” 

Ro’s eyes lit up. “Oh  _ really?”  _ He drawled, giving the woman another considering look. “I always thought she’d be taller...more...scaley.” 

Logan stifled another laugh, shaking his head. Perhaps it was the stress getting to him. Very likely the lack of sleep too. “Same. I designed her that way in….” He exhaled, sitting back, briefly touching his shirt pocket. “In One Knight Joan-Lee.” 

“YOU!” His rescuer was suddenly nose to nose with him, hands on his shoulders. “You are---you--the Joan-Lee games are Ah-May-ZING!! I couldn’t believe it ---Did you---How were you connected with--”

Logan blinked, caught by surprise at the adoration in Ro’s vibrant brown eyes. “I…” His hand gripped his shirt pocket. “I am-- _ was _ \--one of the Creators.” 

Ro inhaled sharply. Eyes going wide. “You’re---”

“Sir?” 

The two of them looked up, Ro sitting back on his heels as the medic adjusted the strap of his bag. Behind him and his partner, a handful of police officers were attempting to sooth the wom--Logan’s lips quirked in a small smile--the  _ Dragon Witch  _ as she railed against them, obviously refusing to come quietly. 

“Can I see your injuries?” The medic asked, placing his bag on the ground as he knelt, quickly setting to work once Logan nodded, his attention quickly drawn away from his rescuer to answering questions asked by the men treating him and then giving his statement to the police once they’d taken the Dragon Witch out of the store. By the time the paramedics were packing up their things with a word of caution to go to the hospital if he experienced any dizziness or vomiting, Ro had vanished. 

Logan exhaled, rolling down his pant leg over the bandages before cautiously standing, glad to not be going to the hospital. It wasn’t like he could afford it with no money to his name. 

“Yo, Specs.” 

He turned in time to catch a soft cloth bag thrown at his chest. “Wha--”

Ro grinned, holding up a bulging grocery bag. “The store replaced your food and then some, but I figured you could use a change of clothes too. I wouldn’t want to drive home covered in milk and jam.” 

_ And blood.  _

Logan clutched his bag tighter to his chest, tearing his eyes away from the extra food and peered inside of his own to see a pair of jeans, socks, and a dark t-shirt inside. Truthfully, he hadn’t expected his rescuer to stick around after giving his witness statement, let alone give him clothes. This was--He licked his lips. “Ro, I couldn’t--”

“Sure you can and…” Ro hesitated, looking uncertain as he slipped a hand in his pocket. “I’m also sorry you got axed from MantiCore today...Logan.”

Logan started, looking up. “How!--” He didn’t recall giving his rescuer his name. 

Ro raised an eyebrow. “Come on, ‘ _ one of the Creators,’ _ Specs? How about  _ the  _ Creator of One Knight Joan-Lee. I would know your design style anywhere which is why.” He held out a card, tilting it so that the logo to MantiCore’s top rival, ChiMera, was visible. “My company would welcome you with open arms.” He shrugged as Logan gaped at him open mouthed.

No. It couldn’t be. Ro wasn’t...was he? His rescuer couldn’t be  _ Roman Prince  _ freaking  _ CEO  _ of ChiMera!  _ The  _ rival of the gaming world had been gunning to take sales away from ManitCore for years! Why would that CEO, why would  _ Roman  _ himself _ ,  _ even deign to walk in a grocery store let alone  _ this  _ grocery store? How!

“No strings attached of course should you decide to try elsewhere.” Ro--Roman? fidgeted under Logan’s bewildered stare “The clothes aren’t a bribe or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking.” 

The thought had crossed his mind.

Roman spread his arms, grocery bag swinging. “But the offer stands. A talent like yours shouldn’t be wasted, Lo. You would have a good, well paying job with us. I promise.”

Of all the ways he expected today to end-- “I…” Logan cleared his throat, a small smile spreading on his face, the weight of the flashdrive holding his entire One Knight Joan-Lee program warm in his shirt pocket as he reached out to take the card. “I would like that, Roman. Thanks.” 


End file.
